


Too Alike

by likehandlingroses



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Season 7 AU, give and you will receive verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-17 13:12:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14189694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likehandlingroses/pseuds/likehandlingroses
Summary: A newly awakened Rumple finds Belle living in the Seattle suburbs, cursed to believe she’s Annie Jacobsen, Weaver’s troubled ex-wife.





	Too Alike

“You don’t have to come in,” Gideon-- _Alexander_ \--said, looking guilty. 

Rumple said nothing as he eyed the old house, too large for its single inhabitant. Even now, he could feel his false memories pressing on his mind, telling him he’d been there before. Had lived there, even, with a wife who had grown to resent his constant absence and emotional unavailability. His son had been born in that house, and he’d missed it, just as he’d missed everything until Alexander was eight. 

Though he knew the memories were false, they’d come too close to being true for Rumple to feel anything but queasy about stepping into Weaver’s past. Nevertheless, he’d promised himself he would see her, no matter how much it pained him. 

“It’ll be fine,” he told Alexander, opening the car door. “Things can hardly get worse, can they?”

The house, despite its chipping paint and overgrown lawn, was immaculate on the inside. Annie Jacobsen, who’d inherited the house from her beloved grandfather, took pride in her home and how it was furnished. She’d refused to hire a housekeeper, preferring to do the cleaning herself (Annie liked doing nearly everything herself). Being a single mother hadn’t slowed her down in the slightest. If anyone could get something done, it was Annie Jacobsen. 

That had been true up until twenty years ago, when Annie blacked out in the middle of driving Alex to school, causing a pile-up that resulted in someone’s death. 

The accident hadn’t been her fault. Annie rarely drank, and there was no trace of drugs in her system at the time of the crash. She’d even eaten a healthy breakfast that morning and received a physical not three weeks before. It was a rare case, authorities said: an accident that was true to its name. 

But Annie couldn’t accept that what had happened was an anomaly, a freak accident, something to grieve and move on from. She didn’t drive anymore, and she rarely left the house--and never unaccompanied. 

She was sick, and no one could tell her otherwise. No amount of coaxing or doctors or tests had managed to convince Annie that anything but trouble could come of leaving the safety of her home. For twenty years, those four walls had contained nearly every part of her life. She quit her job--she didn’t need the money, only the sense of pride in doing something worthwhile--and developed a long list of strange symptoms. All of them were related to stress and grief, the doctors said. Annie wouldn’t listen. 

Rumple wished his memories of that time were different. Unfortunately, Weaver had done nothing but use the accident as an opportunity to gain partial custody of the son he’d never met. Not one word of sympathy, not a card or even an honest conversation. She was crazy, he’d said. Unfit. Annie’s lawyers were excellent, and they were able to bar Weaver from gaining full custody. However, the damage had been done, and more than one of Annie’s friends believed Weaver had permanently set-back any tentative progress Annie might have made.

“Mum?” Alexander called out as they entered the house. “It’s me. I have your groceries.”

“I’m in the living room, honey!” 

Rumple’s stomach turned as he heard Belle’s voice coming from the other room. Except she wasn’t Belle. She was Annie, a woman who dyed her own roots in a dimly lit bathroom and had never found the right shade of brown. Annie, whose hands trembled when she reached for the television remote to turn the volume down. Annie, who looked at Rumple and saw a man whose inability to love had taken so much away from her. 

“What is he doing here?” she said as Weaver entered the room, a painful catch in her voice. 

“Mum…” Alexander looked at his father with that same guilty expression he’d worn in the car, but Rumple remained impassive. He forced himself to look Annie in the eye and smile.

“Annie. Nice to see you.” 

Annie’s eyes narrowed. “Alexander, honey, would you please go and put those groceries away for me?”

“I’m not ten,” Alexander said, and though his voice was measured, Rumple could hear the strain of years of being thrust between two people who couldn’t stand the sight of each other. “I know you’re going to fight. But just so you know: I told Dad about Garrett. And he’s happy for me, and he’ll be there when I get married, so you’ll just have to get used to each other. Because I won’t go hide in the hallway at my own wedding so you can argue.”

Before Annie could say anything, Alexander had turned on his heel and left. Rumple cleared his throat, and Annie looked at a loss for words. Her eyes were distant and her brow knit ever so slightly. Then she shook her head free of whatever she’d been thinking about and said: 

“You’re really okay with him?” She sounded more doubtful than impressed. 

“Of course I am,” Rumple said. “He’s happy. That’s all I want. All I’ve ever wanted.”

“That, and a life that didn’t require you to put any but yourself first,” Annie quipped, fire in her eyes. 

“Annie...I didn’t come to fight,” he said, trying desperately to ignore how Annie’s anger brought him back to a time he didn’t like to remember. He’d managed to fix his own mistakes; he could fix Weaver’s as well. 

“Then what did you come here for?”

“It’s been six years; I wanted to see you. After my accident...I suppose I realized how easy it is to slip away from people and problems. And maybe I’d rather not do that.”

Annie looked him up and down. “I heard about what happened. They said you’d died, at first. Alexander could barely tell me, he was so upset. But you look alright, now.”

“I'm fine. And you?”

“The doctors say I’m right as rain,” Annie said with a sad smile. “Just crazy. So no news to report there.”

“You’re not crazy, Annie.” . 

He could see Annie take in a breath too quickly at the words. She tried to smile again, though her eyes were glistening. 

“You’ve got soft, haven’t you?” she said to her hands. “You were the first person to say I was, every time.”

“I’m sorry,” Rumple said, stepping closer to her. “I truly am.”

“You wanted your son back. I know that. Who’s to say I wouldn’t have done the same thing?” Annie glanced back up at him. “We were too alike, weren’t we?”

“Perhaps.” 

Annie looked as though she wanted to say a good deal more on the subject, but instead she asked: 

“I suppose Alexander will have you around a bit more, now?”

“I hope so.”

“He does love you,” Annie said, after a pause. “And I’m glad he does. When he was a baby, I used to wonder if I wanted him to. But I’m happy he does, now. Love’s never a bad thing, is it?”

“No.”

Annie gave a good-natured smirk. “You’d have argued with me about that too, once upon a time.”

“I’m a different man, now. Or trying to be,” Rumple said, knowing he’d gone a step too far. Annie bit her lip and looked straight at the carpet. She wasn’t ready for such a conversation. Not yet. He’d done enough, for today. Belle would know he’d done his best. 

“Well, then,” he said with a sigh. “I’ll say goodbye to Alexander and be on my way. It was good to see you, Annie.”

“Yeah,” she whispered, still looking at the floor. “You too.”

* * *

 

 

Alexander peeked into the living room after his father had said his goodbyes. His mother was sitting still on the couch, staring at her hands and whispering to herself. 

“You okay, Mum?”

His mother looked up at him and placed her hand on the spot next to her on the sofa. 

“He said he was sorry…” she murmured as Alexander sat down. 

“Did he?” Perhaps they’d be getting along for the wedding after all, he thought. 

“No one ever says that,” his mother said, a sudden force coming into her voice. It was almost joyful. “Not to me. He even had the decency to look like he meant it.”

“I’m sure he did,” Alexander said. His father had been similarly warm with him, that night Alexander had shown up on his doorstep with a lasagna and an engagement he was afraid to mention. His father had never been a bad man, not exactly. But there was something about him, now. Something sincere. Something good. 

His mother smiled and placed a hand on his cheek. 

“You look like him,” she said. “But more beautiful--more perfect. That’s why we have children, isn’t it? To see ourselves the way we wish we were. Young and happy. Maybe a bit wiser.”

Alexander felt tears pricking in his eyes. The world had written Annie Jacobsen off as mad. Many of her friends had forgotten her, and most of her acquaintances spoke of her only in a whisper. But they were wrong. His mother was bright and beautiful, strong and selfless. She’d be alright, someday.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! This is a follow-up to "Give, and You Will Receive." Most of the prompts I fill for this 'verse should be able to stand on their own, but if you are interested in reading more from this verse, go ahead and click on the "give and you will receive verse" tag...and you should be able to find anything else I've written in this Season 7 AU.


End file.
